MEN’S GROUP
Inspired by this.
The Rev. Dr. St. George “Goof” Braithwaite III, Rector of St. Thaddeus & St. Bartholemew Episcopal Church of Huntleigh, Missouri in suburban St. Louis looked up from his desk. “Oh, hello, Jim,” he said. “Come on in and have a seat.”
Jim Doyle came in, shook hands with Dr. Braithwaite and sat down. “What’s shakin’, Goof? What’s new with you these days?”
“Nothing much. Listen, I wanted to ask you how things have been going with the Men’s Group since the vestry decided to fully fund all men’s and women’s programming.”
Doyle, who headed the group, beamed. “Things couldn’t possibly go any better. I have to tell you, Goof, that the Men’s Group really appreciates the parish stepping back and letting us set up our own seminars and programs. It’s really let us go spiritually deep.”
“That’s great to hear. Didn’t you guys have a program last Sunday? Something about faith or card counting?”
“No, that was two weeks ago. Last weekend’s program was ‘Mary or Mary Magdalene: The Objectification of Women in American Society.’”
“Which one was that again?”
Doyle pulled some papers from his pocket and unfolded them. “I’ve got the description right here.” He scanned the sheet. “‘Seminar participants will meet at the church on Saturday and Sunday to watch college and professional football games, taking special note of the role of women. Food and liquid refreshments provided.’”
“Oh yes, now I remember,” said Dr. Braithwaite. “Sorry I couldn’t have been there.”
“We’re sorry too,” said Doyle. “But you have no idea how much that giant flat screen TV the parish bought us will help the Men’s Group ministry here.”
“That’s great to hear. Was there enough beer?”
“Oh yeah, more than enough. And thanks for the bratwursts and the rest of the eats, they really helped us appreciate what we were looking at.”
“How did the guys react?”
Jim was silent for a few moments. “I’ll be honest with you, Goof. After that weekend, most of us found it difficult or impossible to put into words what we thought or felt.”
“It was that shattering. That’s what confronting these issues can do to a person sometimes.”
“Got that right. Which is why we’ve scheduled a follow-up seminar. It’s tentatively titled ‘God Makes It Rain: The Sexualization of Women in Contemporary Society and the Church’s Response.’”
“That sounds fascinating. What will that one involve?”
Jim quickly glanced through his papers. “I worked up a description last night although it hasn’t been posted to the web site yet. Ah, here it is. ‘Participants will travel to the east side of the Mississippi River to visit several so-called strip clubs and observe the various activities there.
‘Then we will return to the parish, watch and discuss several videos produced by the so-called sex industry as well as examine that industry’s presence on the Internet. Refreshments and bus provided.’”
“I’ll try to see if I can make it. What was that card-counting thing again?”
“That seminar was called ‘Faith or Card Counting: A Theology of Gambling.”
“What did that involve?”
“I’ve got the description right here. Let’s see. Ah, here it is. ‘The great theologian Karl Barth once famously asked, “What is faith? Is it trust in God no matter what? Or when we say we have faith, are we merely pushing all-in while holding Jack/2 off-suited and on the short stack?”
“This seminar will explore that question during an evening at St. Louis’s Lumière Place where participants will explore gambling in all its aspects. Meals and all drinks comped. A $350 bankroll will be provided.”
“How did that go?” wondered Braithwaite.
“Goof,” said Doyle, “I can’t begin to explain to you how much we all got out of it.”
“Well, that’s fantastic. It sounds like the vestry’s decision is really paying off. Say, have you set a date for that next sexuality program of yours?”
“Not yet. But we were shooting for January 13th, next year.”
“Uh oh. That might not be too good.”
“Why not?”
“The Women’s Group has a program scheduled for that evening.”
“Really? What?”
Dr. Braithwaite rummaged through the papers on his desk. “They sent me a brochure about it a while back. Now where is it? Okay, here we go. ‘The Spirituality of Feet.”
“The Spirituality of Feet?”
“Yeah. Here’s the description. ‘Our feet carry us everywhere. To work. Back home. To church. And to whatever other ministries to which God has called us. But unless they hurt, we don’t think about them much.
“By visiting area shoe stores, ‘The Spirituality of Feet’ will help us explore whether what we put on our feet can give us a more positive outlook on ourselves, our lives and our God. $500 per registered participant will be provided.’”
“That sounds pretty interesting,” said Doyle. “Listen, our date’s not set in stone or anything so if it comes up, tell the Women’s Group not to worry about it. At the next Men’s Group meeting, the guys and I will pick another day.”
“Great, Jim, thanks a lot,” said Braithwaite.
The Rev. Dr. St. George “Goof” Braithwaite III, Rector of St. Thaddeus & St. Bartholemew Episcopal Church of Huntleigh, Missouri in suburban St. Louis looked up from his desk. “Oh, hello, Jim,” he said. “Come on in and have a seat.”
Jim Doyle came in, shook hands with Dr. Braithwaite and sat down. “What’s shakin’, Goof? What’s new with you these days?”
“Nothing much. Listen, I wanted to ask you how things have been going with the Men’s Group since the vestry decided to fully fund all men’s and women’s programming.”
Doyle, who headed the group, beamed. “Things couldn’t possibly go any better. I have to tell you, Goof, that the Men’s Group really appreciates the parish stepping back and letting us set up our own seminars and programs. It’s really let us go spiritually deep.”
“That’s great to hear. Didn’t you guys have a program last Sunday? Something about faith or card counting?”
“No, that was two weeks ago. Last weekend’s program was ‘Mary or Mary Magdalene: The Objectification of Women in American Society.’”
“Which one was that again?”
Doyle pulled some papers from his pocket and unfolded them. “I’ve got the description right here.” He scanned the sheet. “‘Seminar participants will meet at the church on Saturday and Sunday to watch college and professional football games, taking special note of the role of women. Food and liquid refreshments provided.’”
“Oh yes, now I remember,” said Dr. Braithwaite. “Sorry I couldn’t have been there.”
“We’re sorry too,” said Doyle. “But you have no idea how much that giant flat screen TV the parish bought us will help the Men’s Group ministry here.”
“That’s great to hear. Was there enough beer?”
“Oh yeah, more than enough. And thanks for the bratwursts and the rest of the eats, they really helped us appreciate what we were looking at.”
“How did the guys react?”
Jim was silent for a few moments. “I’ll be honest with you, Goof. After that weekend, most of us found it difficult or impossible to put into words what we thought or felt.”
“It was that shattering. That’s what confronting these issues can do to a person sometimes.”
“Got that right. Which is why we’ve scheduled a follow-up seminar. It’s tentatively titled ‘God Makes It Rain: The Sexualization of Women in Contemporary Society and the Church’s Response.’”
“That sounds fascinating. What will that one involve?”
Jim quickly glanced through his papers. “I worked up a description last night although it hasn’t been posted to the web site yet. Ah, here it is. ‘Participants will travel to the east side of the Mississippi River to visit several so-called strip clubs and observe the various activities there.
‘Then we will return to the parish, watch and discuss several videos produced by the so-called sex industry as well as examine that industry’s presence on the Internet. Refreshments and bus provided.’”
“I’ll try to see if I can make it. What was that card-counting thing again?”
“That seminar was called ‘Faith or Card Counting: A Theology of Gambling.”
“What did that involve?”
“I’ve got the description right here. Let’s see. Ah, here it is. ‘The great theologian Karl Barth once famously asked, “What is faith? Is it trust in God no matter what? Or when we say we have faith, are we merely pushing all-in while holding Jack/2 off-suited and on the short stack?”
“This seminar will explore that question during an evening at St. Louis’s Lumière Place where participants will explore gambling in all its aspects. Meals and all drinks comped. A $350 bankroll will be provided.”
“How did that go?” wondered Braithwaite.
“Goof,” said Doyle, “I can’t begin to explain to you how much we all got out of it.”
“Well, that’s fantastic. It sounds like the vestry’s decision is really paying off. Say, have you set a date for that next sexuality program of yours?”
“Not yet. But we were shooting for January 13th, next year.”
“Uh oh. That might not be too good.”
“Why not?”
“The Women’s Group has a program scheduled for that evening.”
“Really? What?”
Dr. Braithwaite rummaged through the papers on his desk. “They sent me a brochure about it a while back. Now where is it? Okay, here we go. ‘The Spirituality of Feet.”
“The Spirituality of Feet?”
“Yeah. Here’s the description. ‘Our feet carry us everywhere. To work. Back home. To church. And to whatever other ministries to which God has called us. But unless they hurt, we don’t think about them much.
“By visiting area shoe stores, ‘The Spirituality of Feet’ will help us explore whether what we put on our feet can give us a more positive outlook on ourselves, our lives and our God. $500 per registered participant will be provided.’”
“That sounds pretty interesting,” said Doyle. “Listen, our date’s not set in stone or anything so if it comes up, tell the Women’s Group not to worry about it. At the next Men’s Group meeting, the guys and I will pick another day.”
“Great, Jim, thanks a lot,” said Braithwaite.
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